Prescott's Paragon Reciter.

THE DRUMMER BOY'S BURIAL.

ANONYMOUS.

All day long the storm of battle through the startled valley

swept ;

All night long the stars in heaven o'er the slain sad vigils kept.

One by one the pale stars faded, and at length the morning

broke ;

But not one of all the sleepers on that field of death awoke.

Slowly passed the golden hours of that long bright summer

day,

And upon that field of carnage still the dead unburied lay,

For the foeman held possession of that hard-won battle plain, In unholy wrath denying even burial to our slain.

Once again the night dropped round them-night so holy and so calm,

That the moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the sound of prayer or psalm.

On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from all the rest, Lay a fair young boy, with small hands meekly folded on his breast.

And the broken drum beside him all his life's short story told; How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide o'er him rolled.

Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem of stars, While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery planet Mars.

Hark! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices whispering

low,

Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the brooklet's murmuring flow?

Clinging closely to each other, striving never to look round As they passed with silent shudder the pale corses on the ground,

Came two little maidens-sisters-with a light and hasty

tread,

And a look upon their faces, half of sorrow, half of dread.

And they did not pause nor falter till, with throbbing hearts they stood

Where the Drummer-boy was lying in that partial solitude.

They had brought some simple garments from their wardrobe's scanty store,

And two heavy iron shovels in their slender hands they bore.

Then they quickly knelt beside him, crushing back the pitying

tears,

For they had no time for weeping, nor for any girlish fears.

But they smiled and kissed each other when their new strange task was o'er,

And the form that lay before them its unwonted garments

wore.

Then with slow and weary labor a small grave they hollowed

out,

And they lined it with the withered grass and leaves that lay about.

But the day was slowly breaking ere their holy work was done, And in crimson pomp the morning again heralded the sun.

And then those little maidens-they were children of our foesLaid the body of our Drummer-boy to undisturbed repose.

GIFT OF GREEN CORN.

LONGFELLOW.

You shall hear how Hiawatha
Prayed and fasted in the forest,-
Not for greater skill in hunting,
Not for greater craft in fishing,
Not for triumphs in the battle,
And renown among the warriors;
But for profit of the people,
For advantage of the nations.

On the fourth day of his fasting
In his lodge he lay exhausted ;
From his couch of leaves and branches
Gazing with half-open eyelids,

Full of shadowy dreams and visions,
On the dizzy, swimming landscape,

On the gleaming of the water,
On the splendor of the sunset,—
And he saw a youth approaching
Dressed in garments green and yellow,
Coming through the purple twilight,
Through the splendor of the sunset ;
Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead,
And his hair was soft and golden.
Standing at the open doorway,
Long he looked at Hiawatha,
Looked with pity and compassion
On his wasted form and features,
And, in accents like the sighing
Of the south-wind in the tree-tops,
Said he, "O, my Hiawatha !

All your prayers are heard in heaven.

'From the Master of Life descending,

I, the friend of man, Mondamin,

Come to warn you and instruct you,

How by struggle and by labor

You shall gain what you have prayed for.

Rise up from your bed of branches,
Rise, O youth, and wrestle with me!
You will conquer and o'ercome me;
Make a bed for me to lie in,

Where the rain may fall upon me,

Where the sun may come and warm me;
Strip these garments, green and yellow,
Strip this nodding plumage from me,
Lay me in the earth, and make it
Soft and loose and light above me.

"Let no hand disturb my slumber,
Let no weed nor worm molest me,
Let not Kahgahgee, the raven,
Come to haunt me and molest me;
Only come yourself to watch me
Till I wake, and start and quicken,
Till I leap into the sunshine.
Rise, and stoutly wrestle with me!"
Faint with famine, Hiawatha
Started from his bed of branches,
From the twilight of his wigwam,
Forth into the flush of sunset
Came, and wrestled with Mondamin;
At his touch he felt new courage
Throbbing in his brain and bosom,
Felt new life and hope and vigor
Run through every nerve and fibre.
So they wrestled there together
In the glory of the sunset;

And the more they strove and struggled,
Stronger still grew Hiawatha.

Round about him spun the landscape, Sky and forest reeled together,

And his strong heart leaped within him,
As the sturgeon leaps and struggles
In a net to break its meshes;

Like a ring of fire around him

Blazed and flared the red horizon,

And a hundred suns seemed looking
At the combat of the wrestlers.

Suddenly upon the greensward
All alone stood Hiawatha,
Panting with his wild exertion,
Palpitating with the struggle;
And before him, breathless, lifeless,
Lay the youth, with hair dishevelled,
Plumage torn, and garments tattered,
Dead he lay there in the sunset.
And victorious Hiawatha

Made the grave as he commanded,
Stripped the garments from Mondamin,
Stripped his tattered plumage from him,
Laid him in the earth, and made it
Soft and loose and light above him.
Homeward then went Hiawatha

To the lodge of old Nokomis,
And the seven days of his fasting
Were accomplished and completed.
But the place was not forgotten
Where he wrestled with Mondamin;
Nor forgotten nor neglected

Was the grave where lay Mondamin,
Sleeping in the rain and sunshine,
Where his scattered plumes and garments
Faded in the rain and sunshine.

Day by day did Hiawatha

Go to wait and watch beside it;

Kept the dark mould soft above it,
Kept it clean from weeds and insects,
Drove away with scoffs and shoutings,
Kahgahgee, the king of ravens.

Till at length a small green feather
From the earth shot slowly upward,
Then another and another,
And before the summer ended

Stood the maize in all its beauty,